


Forever

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Angst, Crossovers: Highlander, Drama, Episode Related: sentineltoo, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 03:28:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/793498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post S2P1, alternate ending.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Forever

**Author's Note:**

> Heavy angst. Feedback welcome, good bad and ugly.

## Forever

by Texas Ranger

Author's disclaimer: Jim, Blair, and Simon do not belong to me, and I am making no dough off of them, so don't bother to sue. All you'll get is a pair of pet rats and a flatulent German Shepherd.

* * *

Blair wiped tears from his eyes as he threw a few things into an overnight bag. He was careful to choose only small things that Jim probably wouldn't miss. 

*Can the three most wonderful years of my life really be packed away and forgotten?* 

He'd done it before far more often than he cared to remember, but this time was by far the hardest. 

*I knew it would come to this; it always does. Why did I let Jim get this close?* 

But Blair new he'd had no choice but to fall in love with Jim. No more choice than he had now: to stay would mean turning Jim's life upside down, drawing him into a world he would be ill-prepared to understand. 

*I could tell him. I could just meet him at the door and say hey Jim, there's something you need to know about your friend and Guide. It would weird him out at first, but he would accept it. He-* 

Blair realized he was stalling. Jim would be back soon, and he had to be gone. 

He picked up his bag and took one last look around the loft. Countless beloved memories had been made here and Blair wanted this final moment to last forever. He felt the tears start to flow. 

*Time to go, Blair. He'll be back from the funeral soon.* An easy and ancient deception, and the "body" of Blair Sandburg had been buried today. 

He touched the ring Jim had placed on his finger six impossibly short months ago. 

*Goodbye Jim. God, but I love you! In all my 600 years I've never loved anyone more. And I never will.* 

Almost 24 hours after his "death" by drowning, Blair Sandburg slid his sword under his jacket and left the loft forever. 

Blair lowered the binoculars. *This is a dangerous game,Sandburg* he told himself again. *Get out of town and let the healing begin for both of you.* 

He'd been having the same one-sided argument with himself since his "drowning" three days ago. He was dead in Cascade now as he had been dead in many places in his 600 years. Always before, he had managed to uproot himself and move on to whatever lay ahead regardless of how it hurt. 

But there had never been Jim before. 

Jim, who had broken down centuries of carefully constructed defenses effortlessly, whom Blair loved like no other before and no other who would follow. 

*You should have seen her coming. You had your head up your ass for one critical moment and now everything you and Jim made together is gone. It's gone, so get the hell out now* 

Still, Blair lingered in Cascade. At first, he had told himself that he needed a day to transfer funds to accounts which would provide Jim with a large check each month. Then that he needed another day to think of where he was going to go. Finally, he had abandoned all pretense and admitted to himself that he just needed to see Jim once more. He'd follow Jim today, engrave the sight of him into his Immortal brain, and then leave him forever. 

Blair waited outside the loft. He knew Jim would be back out today, not wanting to sit at home brooding, and here he was. 

Blair stared at his lover, dispirited. Jim moved like a sleepwalker, lifeless. The handsome face had never betrayed much emotion except among close friends, but now it was numb, the lively blue eyes that belied the stern countenance dull and dead *Oh God, I'm sorry, Jim!* 

Blair let two cars pass, then pulled out into traffic behind the blue pickup. 

* * *

Jim woke up that morning reaching for Blair as he had for almost a year. His world crashed once again as it had hourly for three days. Blair was dead. Blair would never sleep beside him again. 

Jim had no real desire to be anywhere, but laying all day in the bed that he and Blair had shared was impossible, so Jim heaved himself up with effort and went to the bathroom. 

_I look like shit_ he thought, passing the mirror. *I don't give a fuck.* 

Jim wandered aimlessly through the loft. He had packed Blair's things away yesterday and stored them in the empty room that had served as Blair's office since he and Jim had begun sleeping together. Jim couldn't bring himself to throw anything away or even to send them to the Salvation Army. That seemed too permanent, too much like saying goodbye again. 

Jim drifted over to the couch and turned on the tv,needing to break the sepulchral silence that filled the loft. He switched stations until he found some old movie, one of the bland films churned out in the 1940's, and settled back to watch. Anything to keep from thinking. 

Jim shifted, feeling a lump in the cushions. He reached down to remove the offending object and came up with Blair's favorite shirt, the plaid flannel that Jim had carelessly tossed over his shoulder before he had pushed Blair back on the couch and- 

Jim buried his face in the shirt, turned up his senses, and inhaled deeply. He was suddenly surrounded by the sweet scent that had been Blair-oatmeal soap, herbal shampoo, sandalwood, and the masculine fragrance of Blair's body. Jim smiled as he breathed the sweetness again. When Blair got home he would- 

Jim's chest contracted as reality flooded over him like a wave of ice water. Blair wasn't coming home. "Oh, Chief." 

Jim dropped the shirt and headed for the door. Still in the clothes he had worn to bed, he went to find the nearest bar and dull the pain that ripped at his soul. 

* * *

Blair followed Jim to Whitie's Bar. 

*Oh, Jim, come on, man!* Blair thought desperately. The detectives had a running joke about Whitie's, the rummy and whore bar in Cascade's worst slum. It's only attraction was that it was open and serving liquor all day. 

*You must really be hurting, babe* Blair sighed. 

Two hours later, Jim still hadn't come out and Blair was panicking. He couldn't just run into the dive and drag Jim out but maybe- 

Blair approached an old drunk and handed him a quarter and a ten dollar bill. "It's yours. Just go to that pay phone, dial this number-" he wrote the number for the Cascade PD on a scrap paper "-and ask for Simon Banks. Tell him-" 

* * *

Jim tossed back another shot of straight whiskey. He had lost count of how many he'd had or even how long he'd been in here with the Skid Row crowd, but he didn't care. The cheap booze had numbed him enough so that thoughts of Blair were farther away, and the raw reek of the whiskey had erased the lingering scent of his dead lover. A few more shots and Jim might be able to stop thinking altogether. 

"Barkeep, another over here." 

"Cancel that." The deep, calm voice of Simon Banks came from over Jim's shoulder. 

Jim turned ungracefully in his stool to face his commanding officer and friend. "Simon. What are you doing here?" 

"I got a call from some guy telling me to get over here and bail you out." Simon put his arm around Jim's shoulder and began to pull him up. "Come on, Jim," he said gently. 

Jim pulled away. "I like it here." 

"I know how much you loved Blair," Simon said,"but is this the way you honor his memory, by drinking your liver to oblivion in a sleazy bar? Jim, this isn't what he'd want." He wrapped his arm around Jim's shoulder again. "Come on, old friend. I'll take you home." 

This time Jim didn't resist. Leaning heavily on Simon, he rose unsteadily, tossed a few bills on the bar, and allowed himself to be led to Simon's car. 

Simon drove them back to the loft and helped Jim up the stairs. He tried to get Jim to sit on the couch but Jim yanked out of Simon's grip and turned away. "Simon...get it off...please..." he gestured to the couch. 

Confused Simon searched the couch. His heart fell when he saw Blair's shirt, and he understood. Silently, he removed it to the spare bedroom and returned to sit next to Jim. Knowing his friend was not much of a "sharer" Simon began,"You know, when I first saw Blair, tagging along after you,begging to shadow you I thought 'Right! He won't last a week once he sees what real cop work is like!' I mean, come on,you know? Here's this academic type, barely comes up to your shoulder, 150 soaking wet, brimming with youthful enthusiasm, and he's supposed to tag along with the great Jim Ellison? It's like Woody Allen shadowing Rambo." Simon smiled fondly at the memory. "I was all set to say hell no when I saw how he was looking at you. I guess I knew even then that he'd do anything for you, follow you anywhere." 

Jim was silent. He had changed neither position or expression. 

"There were a lot of jokes for awhile from the guys around the station, and some resentment. You know how territorial cops are. But Blair was Blair and no one could resist him for long." Simon laughed softly. "Pretty soon the whole station was eating out of his hand! If I had half his charm I'd be a much better captain. When it became obvious that you two were a couple the rumblings started again, but not for long and nothing like you'd expect from a bunch of cops. Because-" Simon paused, looking for the words "-because he was Blair." He looked for a reaction and got none. Jim sat, staring stonily into space. Simon laid a hand on a shoulder that felt boneless. "He earned the respect of a whole precinct of cops, and that's something only someone very special could've done. I thought you should know." 

Simon squeezed Jim's shoulder and stood up. The lost look in Jim's eyes scared him but he knew the Sentinel would come to him when he was ready. 

Simon got as far as the door, when Jim finally spoke. 

"I heard his last heartbeat, Simon. I heard him die." 

* * *

Blair watched Simon leave from the shelter of the rented car. Not five minutes later Jim came out and headed off down the street. 

*How far are you going to get without your truck?* 

Afraid to follow, Blair stayed put until Jim came back a few minutes later, carrying a brown paper bag with the neck of a bottle just visible. 

*Jim, shit!* Blair pounded the steering wheel in helpless anger *Come on, man! this isn't your style!* 

The practical side of Blair was screaming at him to leave Cascade before he was spotted, but Blair had never been very practical when it came to Jim Ellison. 

*I'm his Guide* Blair thought miserably *My Sentinel is in trouble because of me, and there's not shit I can do about it.* Practicality tried to take over, but Blair cut it off rudely. *Yeah, I'm stalling, lingering, postponing the inevitable, but I don't care. I need to be with Jim a little longer.* 

* * *

Jim carried the bottle upstairs, hanging onto the railing for support. This morning's drunk had been fine, but the problem with benders is that they didn't last long. 

He let himself into the empty loft, tossed his keys without bothering to watch where they landed, and sank down on the couch. 

The shadows in the room got longer and the bottle emptied, but Jim hadn't been able to recapture that merciful numbing of that morning. Instead, Blair danced through his thoughts, alive, and more often than not, smiling the beautiful smile that had never failed to turn Jim's knees to water. 

In the near-darkness of the room, Jim began a conversation with his dead love. "I can't believe you're gone. You don't feel dead to me, Chief! It feels like you're going to bounce into my arms any time now, kissing me, telling me you love me. It just doesn't seem real-" Jim suddenly hurled the empty bottle across the room where it shattered against the wall. "Damn you, Blair! You promised you'd never leave!" 

Overloaded with grief and alcohol, Jim slumped back against the cushions and passed out. 

* * *

Blair waited for nightfall before climbing quietly up the fire escape and creeping in the upstairs window. It was unlocked, as he knew it would be. For some reason Jim had never locked it. 

*Came in handy that night Warren held Cassie and me hostage. Jim just scaled up the fire escape and busted in like the cavalry.* Blair smiled. 

The loft was dark, but Blair knew Jim was asleep from the sound of the big man's deep breathing. Blair navigated the stairs in the dark, careful to avoid the squeaky step near the bottom, and moved quietly to the couch. He stood for a moment, looking at the still form of his love, then dropped to his knees and whispered almost soundlessly, "I love you, Jim. I will always love you, no matter how long I'm cursed to live." Blair leaned over and barely touched his lips to Jim's, then padded soundlessly out the door, locking it behind him. 

* * *

Jim opened his eyes without bothering to turn up his Sentinel sight. He didn't want outside stimulation to distract from the wonderful dream he'd just had of Blair's warm lips brushing his own. He took a deep breath. 

Jim sat up abruptly in the dark. Blair's earthy scent hung in the air, unique and familiar. Heart racing, Jim inhaled again. 

"Blair?" he called. 

No answer; still, the fragrance was unmistakable to Jim's sensitive nose. 

Remembering the dream, Jim licked his lips. The sweet taste of Blair's mouth lingered. 

*I'm going crazy* Jim thought calmly *My mind is trying to resurrect him. I think maybe with my heightened senses I could will myself to fall into catatonia if this keeps up.* 

Jim supposed he should've been frightened, but instead a permanent zone-out was a wonderful escape hatch from the pain and emptiness. Almost like a lifelong dream. 

I"ll just find somewhere deep inside myself and spend the rest of my days dreaming about Blair.* 

The thought relieved him so much that he actually smiled for the first time in three days. 

Jim lay back down, closed his eyes, and waited for sleep to return his beloved Guide. 

* * *

Jim paced restlessly through the loft. For the past week, he had dreamed of Blair every night. Blair would kneel by his side, whisper endearments, then drift away, leaving Jim wrapped in his scent and soothed by the flavor of his lips. 

But the dreams only came at night, like elfin visitations from one of Blair's faerie tales. Jim's days were spent in anxious anticipation with hard liquor to blunt the worst of the waiting. 

Jim switched on the tv,watched for a few minutes, then checked his watch tensely. Only 5:00. Three more hours at least until nightfall and Blair. 

Jim bounded up from the couch and resumed pacing, twisting his hands and moving his head in an uncanny, unconscious imitation of his late lover. Finally, he stalked into the kitchen and poured himself a tumbler of tequila, draining the last from the bottle that had been full yesterday morning. 

When night finally descended on Cascade, Jim was safely passed out, waiting. 

* * *

Blair wiggled quietly into the upstairs window once again, listened for Jim's breathing, and went to stand by him. 

Blair didn't need lights to see what a mess Jim had made of the loft. And himself. The big man hadn't changed clothes, or bathed since Blair's death. The reek of alcohol and unwashed body had gotten progressively stronger and the usual Jim-enforced neatness of the loft had given way to empty bottles, dust, and general neglect. 

Blair stared down at Jim despairingly. 

*He's self-destructing and it's my fault. I only wanted to take care of him for whatever time he has left, but instead I did this. I'm not doing either one of us a favor by staying here.* 

He knelt down and moved as close to Jim as possible without actually touching him. "I'm sorry, Jim," he whispered almost soundlessly. "I should've left the minute I realized we were falling in love, but...I have to go now." He leaned down and kissed Jim's lips lightly. "Go on with your life, Big Guy, but never forget me." He swallowed past the lump in his throat. "Or how much I love you." 

Blair stood and walked out of the loft without looking back. 

* * *

Jim snapped awake and sat up in the darkness. The dream had been different tonight. Instead of soft words of love,Blair had said he was leaving, that Jim should go on without him. 

Jim moaned hopelessly. He knew what was happening. His mind was letting go of Blair, and there would be no more dreams. No more refuge from the loss that consumed him in his waking hours. 

Jim made the only decision left to him. Without bothering to take a jacket, he grabbed his keys from the basket by the door and rushed into the chill night air. 

* * *

Blair ducked into the alley when he heard the door open behind him. Jim wandered past him and to the truck, eyes glazed and unseeing, climbed in and drove off. 

*What the hell?* Blair thought nervously *What are you up to, Jim?* 

Throwing aside all reservations, Blair ran to his car and set off after Jim. 

*No, I'm not just stalling here. Something's wrong, man. Really wrong. I'm his Guide; he's my responsibilty. In fact, this whole fucking mess is my responsibility, so my common sense can just shut the fuck up.* 

He followed Jim across the city and pulled up to a small, neat cemetery overlooking the sea. 

*Is this where I'm "buried"?* Blair wondered. *It's so beautiful! Little late for visiting hours, though isn't it, Jim?* 

Jim scaled the 10-foot locked gate effortlessly. Blair, following several feet behind, struggled over. 

*What's wrong with your senses, man? I'm practically right behind you and you don't even know it!* 

Jim continued on in the dark like a sleepwalker, making his way through rows of well-kept graves until he found the one he was looking for. 

Blair hid behind an old oak and watched silently, apprehension turning to dread when Jim sat crosslegged on Blair's grave and began to speak in a haunted voice that left the old Immortal cold. 

"I'm sorry, Chief," Jim said. The tears that had not come at Blair's funeral fell quietly down his cheeks now. "I tried, but I can't. I can't make it without you. You were my life, and when you died you took my soul with you." He pulled his 9mm out of his shirt. "Now all that's left is to get rid of the body." 

Jim touched Blair's headstone, traced the words 'Blair Sandburg, Beloved', and put the barrel of the pistol in his mouth. 

"Oh, my God, Jim, no!" Blair leapt with feline grace and knocked Jim over, pinning the big hand that held the pistol to the ground as the shot shattered the night's silence. 

Startled, Jim looked up into a pair of Carribean blue eyes locked on his own. 

The familiar scent that had been his comfort for three years enveloped him, and the heartbeat that had been the last sound he heard before sleep surrounded him. 

"Blair?" he breathed. 

Blair released Jim's wrists. "Yeah, sweetheart, it's me." 

Jim reached up to stroke his Guide's curls, feeling the silky strands caress his fingers. "You're real," he whispered. "Tell me you're real." 

Blair smiled down at him. "I'm real." 

Jim pulled Blair into his powerful arms and clutched him to his chest, rocking Blair and murmuring his name. Blair snuggled against Jim and enjoyed the feel of being in the embrace of a man he had almost abandoned forever. *Stupid, stupid!* Blair berated himself. *This is where you belong, Immortal or not!* 

Blair reached up and wiped tears from the big man's face. "Guess you have some questions." 

Jim kissed Blair's forehead. "Not really. It's enough that you're alive. Everything else..." 

Blair grinned and rolled out of Jim's arms. He got to his feet and pulled Jim up. "Still, there are some things you have to know. But not here. Let's get you back to the loft and into the shower. No offense, but you're pretty ripe, Big Guy." 

Jim gripped Blair's hand. "Wait." He looked down at the handsome face of his angel. "I love you." 

Blair gripped back. "And I love you. I've never done this for anyone else in my life and never will again, but I trust you." 

Jim didn't ask what that meant. He supposed he had a great deal to learn about Blair Sandburg in the future, but for now he held tight to his hand and allowed himself to be led home. 

The End 

* * *

End Forever. 

 


End file.
